


Blanket Kisses

by CinnabarMint



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Even though I don’t even mention Valentine’s in the fic, Fluff, M/M, Napping, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Sweet, Valentine's Day Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnabarMint/pseuds/CinnabarMint
Summary: Crowley has been falling asleep in the bookshop lately, when he wakes he notices Aziraphale has been taking care of him.How long will it take for Aziraphale to finally crack?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	Blanket Kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dashicra1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dashicra1/gifts).



> Hello!!!
> 
> This has been written as part of goloveday’s Valentine’s Gift Exchange.
> 
> Tons of thanks to my betas CandyQueenAO3, and Z A Dusk. You should totally go check their stuff out. They’re both magnificent writers.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

Anthony J. Crowley had discovered sleep some time around the 15th century (a little too late, in his opinion - he could have skipped the 14th century thank you very much) and in the past several centuries had made it an art form. He luxuriated in the fluffiest beds and the softest sheets. Every single one of his dwelling places throughout history had a bedroom fit for a king. However, despite all his comforts, soon after Armageddon Crowley discovered a most unsettling fact: in none of his beds had he ever slept as peacefully as on Aziraphale’s settee in the back room of the bookshop.

It had been an accident, really. Colder days made him feel groggy. He didn’t go into full hibernation but he tended to nap more frequently during the winter months. One morning he had gone to pick up Aziraphale for breakfast and found the Angel deeply engrossed in one of his books. When Aziraphale noticed, he blushed and insisted Crowley should come in and wait for him while he finished his chapter, as if Crowley didn’t know that would mean at least three chapters and going to lunch instead of breakfast. Crowley shrugged nonchalantly and lay himself on the settee, ready to troll Twitter to hell and back. 

It seemed like he’d only just blinked, and when he opened his eyes he had a tartan blanket covering him. His glasses and phone had been put away on Aziraphale’s desk. The Angel himself was sitting a couple of meters away, reading what had to be a completely different book than the one Crowley had seen that morning. Lazily, he stretched, pulling himself to sit upright and rejoining the world of the living.

“Sleep well, my dear?” Aziraphale looked up from his book with a smile.

“Ngh, yeah, I mean. Good settee,” He yawned, “So, Angel. Ready for lunch?”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, “lunch?”, he said, disbelieving.

“Yeah. I mean I’m sure we’re late for break—“ he noticed the lack of sunlight entering the windows, “dinner?”

“Oh, we’re way past that, dear boy. How do you feel about Indian?”

“Ngk.” Colour rose to his cheeks. “Sure, whatever you want Angel. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Not a problem, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with a wiggle., “So about that takeaway?”

It quickly became a routine. Crowley would arrive at the shop unfashionably early for either lunch or dinner, and then while away a couple of hours snoozing on Aziraphale’s couch. Every time, he woke up covered by a blanket. Every time his glasses and phone had been taken off and laid carefully on Aziraphale’s desk. Every time he slept better than the last. And lately, every time he woke up with a slight tingle on his forehead that he forgot about as soon as he sat upright.

One day however, he was having trouble sleeping. He’d performed some major mischief involving a flock of rosefinches, three bottles of industrial glue and golden glittery cardboard. He’d arrived at the bookshop too wired up to sleep and had been twisting and turning for approximately half an hour now. He was about to give up and whisk Aziraphale to an early lunch when he heard steps nearby. His first instinct was to pretend to be asleep. He heard Aziraphale humming to himself quietly. He felt the Angel put his ridiculously soft tartan blanket over him. He felt him taking his phone from his hand, and his glasses off his face. Aziraphale even took a moment to run his fingers through Crowley’s hair. And Crowley could have gone straight to sleep after that, finally relaxing, when Aziraphale bent down to kiss his forehead.

It was brief, it was warm, it was bloody perfect. It lasted a couple of seconds that felt a whole lot like eternity. But before he could react he heard Aziraphale whisper into the kiss “Sleep well, my dear. And dream of whatever you like best.”

_ Oh _

He was out like a light.

From that day on, the struggle became real. Crowley arrived at the shop, headed into the backroom, lay on the settee, and did his bloody best to not fall asleep before Aziraphale could enter with his tartan blanket and his forehead kisses. He would play Candy Crush, stalk celebrities on Instagram, even pinch himself , anything so that he could feel his Angel’s kiss. And thought Aziraphale didn’t put a blessing for sleep on him every time, every time it felt like he had. Crowley started growing his hair out so that Aziraphale would feel tempted to run his fingers through his hair for a longer while. That one paid off. He started noticing how, over time, Aziraphale became bolder. Once, Crowley half woke to his head in Aziraphale’s lap and those angelic fingers running through the strands and scratching his scalp, while Aziraphale murmured some details of his day absentmindedly. He fell back to sleep almost before he could register the sensations.

A couple of weeks later, when Crowley arrived at the bookshop he noticed how wistful Aziraphale looked. He was gazing out the window,sighing every now and again, and obviously not reading a single word of the book he cradled between his hands. He didn't even notice how Crowley stared at him, trying to figure out what was going on. 

"Angel." 

"Hm?" Aziraphale asked softly. He blinked his eyes and took a deep breath as if he were waking up. "Hello, Crowley. I didn't see you there."

"Are you okay?" 

"Quite, my dear. The backroom is ready for your nap." 

"You sure? We can always have brunch instead of lunch."

"Yes dear boy. I just need a moment to pull myself together. If you would be so kind."

Crowley was about to snipe that he was never kind, but he figured that Aziraphale hadn't even noticed the slip, so he let it pass. 

Crowley walked into the backroom, ready to perform their little ritual again. He laid on the couch and snuggled in, letting himself relax slightly. A bit later, Aziraphale walked into the backroom and sat on the settee, placing Crowley’s head on his lap. He started running his fingers through hair, lulling his sleepy demon with his voice. Crowley was absolutely ready for his sweet dream kiss, but instead Aziraphale sighed.

“You know, my dear boy, when you walked in earlier I was thinking about you. How you’ve been there for me for the last six thousand years. From the very beginning. Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

Crowley held himself still as a rock, desperately hoping that the Angel wouldn’t notice he wasn’t asleep.

“And I can’t even gather the wits to let you know. I want you so much, and you mean so much to me. I wouldn’t want to impose. But, oh my darling. Whenever I have you here like this, it feels like I’m in the right place. And I’m afraid I find myself about to do something rather foolish,”

Aziraphale then kissed his forehead. Then his nose. Then Crowley felt Aziraphale hesitate there. For a second, Crowley imagined Aziraphale kissing him.

“NGK!” Just like his brain to betray him.

Aziraphale’s breath hitched. Crowley opened his eyes and saw Aziraphale’s face go from sheet white to beet red. He started to pull back, but Crowley’s hand quickly tangled into the short hairs of his nape. He looked Aziraphale in the eye, and then pressed a soft, tender kiss into his lips.

“No. Don’t go.”

“Crowley, I...”

“I love you too, Angel.”

Aziraphale blinked once, twice. Then he let himself go and kissed Crowley again, reverently. They separated and took a few deep breaths together. When they opened their eyes, Crowley was smirking.

“Sleep with me, Angel.”

Aziraphale spluttered, going red again “I... Crowley that’s… “

Crowley cackled.

“I mean here. Now. I’m sure the blanket can cover both of us.”

Aziraphale smiled and kissed Crowley’s forehead again. He moved to rest beside Crowley.

In the end, they never knew whose miracle made the settee big enough for two.

In the end, it didn’t really matter.


End file.
